


i dont want to have to hide you

by kaijumama



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Pre-Dethklok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijumama/pseuds/kaijumama
Summary: *points at someone in a band* id like that one, please and thank you(nathans a security dude, and something about the singer inside is like, really fucking significant.also pickles is bisexual. and theyre both like, 19-21.)((this is mostly practice for multi-chapter writing `__` usual 'i dont capitalise anything' warning.))





	1. its rainin men

the crashing of drums and bass echoed outside of the venue where nathan worked. pretty much just out of highschool, he picked up a job as a bouncer; stereotypical, and didnt need much effort, considering his appearance. mostly he enjoyed it for hearing the local bands, though honestly, they were always trash. the band playing now, though-- snacks and bears, thats what he heard through the door-- was kind of good? maybe?...

nathan listened to the crowd roar over the music. he shifted against the wall and the bass pounded through his chest. it was a good feeling. though he'd like it to be heavier. he liked the deep, rumbling feeling, like... like thunder.

like that thunder.

oh shit. its raining.

the torrent came down incredibly fast, a storm picking up instantaneously. nathan grumbled and pushed himself into the building, as lightning flashed behind him. once the doors shut, though, the flooding streets were unnoticed. what he did notice was that fucking singer.

the music was kind of shit, now that he heard it clearly, but he couldnt take his eyes off of that singer. ... to be honest, the fashion was horrible, too. glam metal was ... jesus christ, he couldnt think. it was like a fog. rain filled his head and god knows what happened but as soon as snakes n' barrels finished their performance, nathan went back into the storm.

since they were a pretty new band and there was another act coming on already, there wasnt much security for the members once they got off stage.

which meant once the singer went out for a smoke, nathan was right after him.

"oh. uh, geez. hello." the singer said, preturbed at the tall figure. (really tall.) it was raining, and this guy was just standing there. ... and then he came closer. and the rain wasnt falling on him anymore, and this dude was, wow, really close.

"youre... very tall..." the singer muttered, confused as to who this fucking weirdo was.

"yeah."

...

he tried to slip away from underneath the dude. "so uh... have a good ni--"

"glam metal is fucking shit." he said. brutally. the singer got a shock up his spine and he straightened up, putting out his cigarette. "theres no need to be fuckin' rude," the singer shot back. "and it's glam /rock/, theres a difference."

"no, dude, theyre both just, garbage. like. do you do real metal? because," nathan hesitated, unsure of what he was really saying, "you are far too talented to do this shit." nathan wanted to say, join my band, but he didnt really have a band yet. and the singer looked absolutely bamboozled.

"a-haha, no way man. if i was in a 'real' metal band, id be, y'know, a drummer. or somethin'." the momentary hostility passed. the singer relaxed. "unlike someone over here, im not exactly, uh, naturally deep."

nathan stared forward. the rain was filling his head again. there was something about this guy. he couldnt figure it out. "i mean. if i was in a band. id need a... drummer." the thunder rumbled in the distance, growling deep within his chest.

"hey there, big guy," the singer warned. "'m in a band right now. but hey. you got me a bit fuckin' curious now." he grinned, lighting another cigarette. "so like, meet me sometime? we can play together." and handed nathan a cigarette; one with writing on it.

nathan was thouroughly fucking bamboozled at this point. he took the cig and looked; "you have cigarettes with your phone number printed on them."

the singer nodded, proud of that stupid idea he came up with two years ago. "m'names pickles. ill be seein' ya."

lightning.

the rain cleared.

"who names their fucking kid pickles?"


	2. jam sesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lets play some funky jams, yo.
> 
> (i should be working on my exams. not my fics. what the fuck.)

standing outside of a building, again. nathan double checked his text-- "5 min, gotta get ready", pickles sent-- and glanced around the porch. it was a dingy little shack. there were empty glass bottles in one corner, falling off of the side and into the weeded garden. (maybe with actual fuckin' weed.) he took a drag from the cigarette with pickles' phone number on it, and the chilled night air slipped past. nathan grumbled and started to knock again. but his fist missed the door and instead tapped the air above the singer's head.

"damn, dude!" he exclaimed, dodging nathan's fist. "i wasn't that fuckin' late." pickles grinned, pulling the taller one inside. "grab a beer. my bandmates are, uh, out? or something. so we're free for the night."

nathan grunted, following after. he looked around while getting a beer; the wallpaper was... nonexistent, and the carpet was stained with god knows what, and it was overall a shit-fest.  
he kind of expected this guy to be a neat freak. weird.

..

pickles sat behind a drumset with his band's logo on the front, a weird fuckfest of snakes. they’d been drinking and talking for a while, about fucking /whatever/, before he suggested that they got to the actual point of meeting up. 

“it’s been awhile since i’ve used this-- god, candynose messed it up.” he remarked, staring at the dented drum heads. nathan noted that they looked a bit more like stab wounds than drum marks-- “wait, his name is fucking candynose?”

“it’s, uh, a sort of nickname.” pickles waved off, adjusting the cymbals. “we all got a dumbass name. candynose is the drummer; he does cocaine n’ stuff. then there’s tony, he’s bass, and snazz is rhythm guitar.”

“and pickles.” nathan replied, smirking at the stupidity.

“yeah. suburban wisconsinite mom thought it was sooooo cute,” pickles grumbled. “anyway. you got a song in mind?”

...shit. he forgot about that part. nathan did have some songs, but none he’s ever played before. for real. “...nah.” he said, looking away. “didn’t think about it.”

pickles adjusted his bandana and smirked. “good job. ‘s okay. i got a song we can play. ‘s called, uh, ‘kill you’? a bit of a lighter song but…” the singer trailed off, as nathan stared deep into his fucking soul. “dude?”

“yeah. let’s play that.”

..

“wow, i can’t… i can’t play guitar and drums at the same time.” pickles said, stuck in an acrobatic nightmare. “good to know.”

nathan pushed the drums aside and grabbed pickles up by his collar, setting him on his feet. “i mean. it sounded fucking awesome,” he remarked. “that song is fucking awesome.” sure, the instrumentals were kind of sloppy. and his singing wasn’t perfect, being the first time hed ever sung that. and it was glam metal. which made it suck by default. but it just felt right.

“pff, really? that’s like, our lamest song,” the singer laughed. “alright. glad you like it. made it m’self.” he passed another beer. “god, i haven’t drummed in for-eeeever. feels fuckin great.” nathan nodded, a deep beating inside of him not relaxing. it felt like a storm again. he glanced out the basement window; no rain.

the two sat in a comfortable silence on a broken, stained couch. “...you never told me your name.” pickles said, after a while.

nathan grunted, as if he could pass that off as his name. pickles remained silent. “ugghhh…. it’s, uh.. nathan.” such a fucking dork ass name...

“nathan.” though, with his accent, more ‘naten.’

“yeah.”

“i like it. you’re the only guy who could, y’know, make that name cool.” pickles said, smiling up at him. like, a genuine fucking smile. a smile that lasts for years. “dude, have you eaten anything? your stomach’s been rumbling all night.”

nathan failed to reply for a while, trying to remember if he had eaten. if he hadn’t been to work in a few days… “uh. no. do you have anything?”

the singer hopped off of the couch. “dude, are you kiddin’ me? let’s go. theres like, a fuckin….. whatever. fast food. let’s go.” despite himself, nathan grinned. this guy was pretty cool.

“should we drive? i mean i can manage, bu-- oh no.” pickles stopped at the top of the stairs. “...you guys are uh… back early.”

“yeah.” a voice said. “who you playing with?” bitterness filled the air. “we ain't good enough for ya?” there was movement. nathan couldn’t tell what was happening.

“woah, woah, dude. i didn’t say nothin’ like that. i just met a guy, y’know--” a bottle smashed. “watch it, dude! what the hell! i don’t understand why you guys are freakin’ out so bad--” pickles climbed the stairs and became inaudible. nathan hesitated; technically, this was his job, but it wasn’t his business.

well. it /wasn’t./ but it was about to be.

he climbed the stairs easily. pushing past pickles, he got in between the singer and his band. looking like the bouncer he was, nathan scowled down at the drunken guys. “you got a fucking problem?”

usually that line shocked the shit out of people’s attitudes, but these guys were drunk and pissed as hell. “yeah, man, we do! that’s our fucking singer. playin’ my drums, too!” the man identified as candynose spoke up. he went to point an accusatory finger at pickles, but nathan grabbed his wrist with a threatening force.

“dare me.”

“fucking let him go, you freak!” another man shouted, and threw a punch, striking nathan square in the jaw, and freeing candynose. he got ready for another strike and the third man encouraged him; “yeah, fuckin kill em, snizzy!”

kill him? what the fuck? nathan growled, lost in the adrenaline. who were these fucking weirdos? he stood back up, hesitation gone. snizzy threw; snizzy missed. snizzy was on the floor. snizzy was under nathan’s boot. “wait!” a voice spoke. nathan looked back to see pickles tugging on his shirt. “chill the fuck out, man!”

nathan stepped back.

“guys. we weren’t doing fucking anything.” pickles repeated, standing defensively in front of nathan. “you guys are fucking paranoid, alright?”

snizzy scampered off of the floor. “wh..whatever, man. just get that freak out of here.”

“yeah. sure. whatever…” the singer said, obviously pissed off. “c’mon, dude. let’s go get some food.”

the night was quiet, save for the whining of the band inside. pickles stared dubiously at the car; it may have been the stress from earlier, but he felt way less capable of driving. “...d’you mind walking?”

“...nah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLARGH!!!!! BLAAAAAARGHH!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> BLEGH!!!
> 
> any critique is a blessing!! <3 esp on the dialogue... i hope to see u next chapter ^__^


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